“Damien took Sykes and his latest fling,” Nikki says, her tone making clear that we’ve crossed over into gossip.
The conversation continues along those lines—bouncing from gossip to work to families to friends—until Jackson announces that he and I have plans to scout the island, too, and should probably get going.
We say our goodbyes, and I watch as Jackson and Damien shake hands, looking for all the world like two men who don’t have the slightest problem with each other.
I release a slow breath, realizing at that moment how much I’d been worrying, even after I watched the two interact.
But now it looks like things are really on track, and whatever animosity Jackson might feel for Damien has either been resolved or very deeply buried.
And that, if it’s true, is a damn good thing.
eighteen
“A boat?”
I’m standing on a slip near Fisherman’s Village in Marina del Rey looking at a totally awesome cream-colored boat and wondering what the hell we are doing.
“We’d already be on the island if we’d had Clark or Grayson fly us in the helicopter,” I say, but Jackson only shrugs and continues doing whatever it is he’s doing on his phone. “It took longer to drive back here from Malibu than it would have to fly.”
I expect a reply, but he says nothing. “Are you even listening to me?”
He looks up. “Checklist,” he says, holding up the phone. “And I’m messaging the security team that we’re taking her out.”
I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down, trying to decide if I’m irritated or amused. I settle on amused. “Why exactly are we taking someone’s boat to the island?”
“Not someone’s boat,” he says. “My boat. And because I wanted to show her to you.”
“You have a boat?”
“I do.” He points to the boat we’re standing beside. “There she is.”
“And you’re a comedian, too,” I say, but the truth is, I’m kind of delighted. I haven’t been out on a boat in ages, and this is turning into a bit of an adventure. “How fast is she? How long will it take to get to the island?”
“About two hours.”
I glance at the sky. It’s four, and the sun is already making its descent. “It’s October. By the time we get there, we’ll barely have an hour of light.”
“Good thing my bedroom’s on board. We can start fresh in the morning.” He grins, and looks so much like a delighted boy that I can’t help but laugh.
“Fine. You win. Tell me all about her.” I pause. “Wait. Bedroom? You live here?”
“It seemed prudent. And more economical than continuing to bounce from hotel to hotel whenever I was in town. Of course I considered pitching a tent on my land, but the boat has plumbing.”
“You made a good decision,” I deadpan.
“I thought so.”
“The truth is, I’ve had meetings with a few clients in Santa Barbara. This way, I can bring my office to them.” He points to what appears to be the second level, an enclosed space with walls of windows. “She has a huge area just behind the top deck designed for entertaining. I converted it to a workspace. Lots of natural light. Ocean breezes. And I’ve always loved boats.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I told you my dad wasn’t around much, but the one thing he did right was teach me how to sail.”
I let my eyes drift over this monstrosity of a vessel. “This isn’t a sailboat.”
“Look at you. I didn’t realize you were so up-to-date on all things nautical.”
I smirk, then walk the length of the boat until I’m at her end. Which may or may not be the stern. Unlike Jackson, I have no clue about boats. I do, however, know they have names. This one is Veronica.
“Who is she?”
“The boat,” he says.
“Funny man. I mean, who is she named after?”
“Who says she’s named after anyone?” He holds out his hand. “Come on. Let me show you around and let’s get moving. I really do want to see our island.”
I take his hand and follow him on board. I don’t push about the name, mostly because it’s so obvious that he doesn’t want me to. But I can’t help my curiosity any more than I can help the unpleasant and unwelcome flush of jealousy.
That fades quickly enough once we are on deck. It’s hard to stay jealous of a name when a man’s hands are all over you and his mouth is hot and demanding against yours. “Do you have any idea how hard it was not to take you into the bathroom at Stark’s place and fuck you blind?” he asks, sliding his hand up under my dress.